Good intentions

I had, and still have, good intentions of doing some baking/cooking/whatever. This morning, I made some cream of rice cereal with dried cherries and almonds - a delicious breakfast that was perfect for the 20-degree morning. I ran to the store and got lots of chocolate and the makings of fudge.

And then my Baby got sick.

So I have been nursing my "first-born" all day, making sure he knows he's loved and not alone and also to make sure nothing nasty happens on my bed.

He ate some dinner tonight, had some water, and has kept it down now for almost an hour, which is 55 minutes longer than anything else stayed in place today. He's making progress, but I still think I need to go and get some kitty malt tomorrow morning to make sure this nasty thing doesn't happen again.

I take it badly every time something bad happens to my boys. My first Sweetest Day in Illinois, The Man gave me a choice of gifts - a lobster dinner or a cat. I chose a cat. We chased around 3 counties, checking shelters for a female short-haired cat. No one had any, so since we had already purchased all the paraphenalia (sp?) that goes with a kitten, The Man called a few pet stores to see what they had. We jumped back in the car and drove to Joliet to the one pet store that had kittens.

The clerk pulled out the closest kitten to the door and handed it to me, telling me to hold it until she could get at the one I wanted to see. The little black and white kitten crawled up onto my shoulder and nuzzled into my neck, purring. I looked at The Man and told the clerk not to take any more out, I was going to take this one. And then asked if it was female. She looked at it and said yes.

So we paid for Gracie and piled our little family into the car to head home. I called the vet to make an appointment for the first round of shots, which was included in the purchase price of my kitten.

Later that evening, Gracie was all over the two of us as we sat on the couch. Her butt was toward me and I noticed something that should not have been there. I mentioned the little pouch to The Man, who said that the kitten had nipples and therefore was female. I reminded him of his own nipples.

At the vet the next day, we were informed that Gracie was a "he." The Man, who knew I wanted a female, asked if I wanted to return him and get a female, got a very nasty look from me. I was hooked from the first moment I held that little boy.

When we got home, I realized that I needed a new name for my kitten. He loved to be carried around over the shoulder like a baby, so that moniker stuck. Baby he was. And my baby he is. He turned 8 on September 1st.

Sylvester's story later.